


Where California Bees Sleep

by lovelyharringrove



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Platonic Relationships, Road Trips, Running Away, Tags and Characters will be updated, fuck s3 all my homies hate s3, i fucked w the timeline btw
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-11-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 09:21:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25348387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyharringrove/pseuds/lovelyharringrove
Summary: Billy is getting out of Hawkins, and he doesn't really care how. When he narrowly misses hitting a strange girl on the road, he picks her up and lets her go to California with him. Probably a bad decision, but hey: Billy's made plenty of bad decisions, what's one more?I messed with the timeline here: Billy just graduated high school, but it's the time period where Jim was keeping El at the cabin and not letting her see people. I hate season 3, so it never existed.
Relationships: Eleven | Jane Hopper & Billy Hargrove
Comments: 11
Kudos: 39





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Where The California Bees Sleep," by Grace Hubbard:
> 
> When the cold white fog rolls in from the sea,
> 
> At the close of a summer day,
> 
> Tired—winged bees to a safe shelter fly,
> 
> To poppies, who wrap them away
> 
> In blankets of soft, shining, satin sheen—
> 
> Silken coverlets fit for kings,—
> 
> And breezes sway in a lullaby way
> 
> The bees with the tired wings.
> 
> But lo! when the the sun shines out once again,
> 
> And kisses the tops of the trees,
> 
> The poppies unfold into cups of gold,
> 
> And away fly the honey-bees.

HAWKINS, INDIANA

Billy laid in the thick grass. It was freshly cut, and it stuck to his warm skin. He turned his head to the side and watched a ladybug crawl up a blade of grass. He closed his eyes. The ground was soft beneath him, still smelling of the rain that had come a few nights ago; cicadas hummed in his ears; the hot sun beat down on him, interrupted coming from the rare cloud; the air pushed against his face and lungs, heavy and wet on his lips. He could faintly hear cars crawling down the gravel road. 

His mother used to tell him that if you laid down on the ground long enough, you could feel the earth breathing. She was from around here, he thinks. Kentucky. They would lay on the sand of the beach early in the morning, shivering, until the crashing of the waves faded and all that was left was the breathing. But she wasn’t here, and Billy wasn’t there, and he couldn’t feel any breathing besides his own. 

Someone shook him. Billy’s eyes snapped open, blinking as he tried to adjust to the light. A face loomed in his vision: sweet looking, old, weathered. Long grey hair. For a second, it was his mother. He pushed himself to a sitting position, and stared at her. His brain was slow and syrupy, probably from his diet of cigarettes and a few hours of broken sleep.

“Honey,” she started. Stopped. Offered him a hand. He looked over the rolling hills that lead to the forest and wondered if he could live there.

“Honey, are you alright? You gave me quite a fright,” she said, wringing her hands. “Are you alright?” She looked concerned, her hands coming to touch his face. 

“I’m fine, ma’am,” Billy said, suddenly feeling very out of place. “I’ll get out of your hair.” She protested weakly, offering him breakfast, but he was already walking towards the road where he had parked his car. There was a second where he wanted to run back and hug her, wanted her to make him breakfast and worry about his split lip and sing to him, but he knew she wouldn’t. He’s just a kid trespassing, and she isn’t his mother. 

It was three days until the anniversary of her death, and Billy hated himself more than ever. He turned on the radio, and Pantera began thumping through his speakers and it was all wrong. He felt like crying, sitting in his car on a gravel road thirty miles outside of town, surrounded by trees and birds and everything else that reminded him of her. His hands shook as he reached under his seat and pulled out a box labelled “Lizzie’s” surrounded by flowers and pulled out a Cramps cassette. He slid it into the cassette player and started driving home.

\---

As he pulled into his driveway, Billy felt a sudden and desperate urge to see his mother. It was the first year he wouldn’t visit her grave and leave flowers and he couldn’t do it. Senior year was over, by a week. He was still seventeen, but he didn’t see his dad filing a missing persons report. He realized, with a start, that he could leave. His dad’s car wasn’t in the driveway. 

Billy shook with excitement as he unlocked the door, kicking his boot against it when it stuck. He called out, and got no answer. He reached under his mattress and pulled out an envelope of cash, grabbed another from behind his bookshelf, and started loading his belongings into the back of his car. He didn’t take much, just his clothes, books, jewelry, and posters. He didn’t want his dad on his ass about stealing. He felt giddy. He paused for a second in the living room, staring at a patch of dried blood that Susan must’ve missed on the floor, and thought about how much he wouldn’t miss this. He turned on his car, The Mad Daddy playing as he tore away from Cherry lane. 

Billy sang along loudly as he whipped around a turn and slammed on the breaks. In the middle of the road was a girl, small and red faced with tears, dressed in overalls and no shoes. He turned off the music and pulled up beside her. 

“You alright?” he asked, staring at her bloodshot eyes and shaky hands.

“I want _out_ ,” she said angrily. “I’m tired of this.”

Billy laughed. “Me too, kid.” She continued to stare at him, and he could tell he was about to make a bad decision, but fuck. She looked sad and tired and not from normal teenage girl things, from bad shit. Billy wished someone had given him an out when he looked like that, exhausted and lonely. “I’m headed to Cali. You got anyone who’ll miss you?” he asked. 

Her eyes widened. “Cali?” she asked.

“California,” he replied. “I can take you.”

“California,” she repeats, sounding out each syllable. “What is there? In California.”

 _What kind of kid doesn’t know about California?_ , Billy wonders. “Beaches. The ocean. It’s always warm, and sunny, and beautiful.”

The girl sticks her hand out. “I’m Eleven,” she says.

“Eleven years old?” he asks, shaking her hand through the window. “You look older.” He can’t kidnap an eleven year old, that's like. A real crime. Jail time.

“No. My name is Eleven. I’m thirteen. Almost fourteen,” she clarifies. “My friends call me El.” 

And, shit. Thirteen-almost-fourteen means you can get married in some places. Basically an adult. Can have a job. Could be tried as an adult. “Get in the car, El,” he says, unlocking the doors. “I’m Billy.” Her face breaks out into a smile, and she climbs into the passenger seat as Billy turns the Cramps back on. 

“What is this?” she asks as she stares out the window.

“The Cramps,” he responds. “You like it?”

“Maybe,” she says, smiling. “I don’t listen to music. Not much.” And now, Billy’s really confused about this kid. She’s fourteen, her name is Eleven, she doesn’t listen to music, and she doesn’t know what California is. 

“Well, El,” he turns to face her, a wide grin on his face. “You’re in for a treat, ‘cause I’m gonna teach you _all_ about music.”

\---

OUTSIDE ST. LOUIS, MISSOURI

A little over three hours later, after finding out that El loves Deep Purple and Pantera but hates Judas Priest and Megadeth (which, for the record, Billy also hates Megadeth, so he’s pretty happy about that one), Billy figures they should stop for food. They’re close to St. Louis, and he thinks El might like to see the arch. He wants to make it to Kansas City and sleep there, but food is more pressing. The girl has been pressed up against the window, staring at each thing that they pass, asking “What’s that?” at every landmark, but she tired herself out and fell asleep. 

He shakes her awake when he pulls into the parking lot of a diner near the arch, and tells her it’s dinner time. She follows him in, wearing a pear of Max’s tennis shoes she left in his car, and rubbing sleep from her eyes. She tugs at his sleeve and points to the neon “All Day Breakfast” sign on the wall. 

“Waffles?” she asks quietly. He nods, and sits down at a booth in the back of the restaurant. A tired looking woman comes to take their order: waffles and a chocolate milkshake for El, toast and a strawberry milkshake for Billy. He lights up a cigarette and watches El color in the children's menu. She stares at him for a second.

“Can I try?” she asks.

“Try what? Smoking?” She nods. “Well, El, I’ll cut you a deal. You tell me why you were in such a hurry to get out of Hawkins, and I’ll let you smoke,” Billy says. She glares at him.

“I live with Jim. He says he wants,” she struggles through the words, and Billy wonders if she's ESL or something. “He wants ‘best’ for me. But he doesn’t let me leave the house. Or see anyone. I’m not a baby. He’s not my dad.” Billy hands her the cigarette, she takes it, barely inhales, and coughs. 

“No, no, you have to breathe it into your lungs. Deep,” he explains, taking a drag and exaggerating how hard he breathes. She tries again, and does fine, but scrunches up her face at the taste.

“It’s a good thing you don’t like it, kid. It’s bad for you,” Billy states. El looks at him with her head tilted. 

“If it’s bad, why do you do it?”

“People do bad things all the time,” he says, grinning. “At least this only hurts me.”

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im baaaaaaack! only like, three months later. shh. also, would like to make it clear that billy and el will be COMPLETELY PLATONIC for the entire story. billy/steve might spring up after a while, but no promises.
> 
> anyways! super short chapter (sorry) but i felt like i needed to get something out. so you get a shopping trip + hop calls joyce. enjoy!  
> as always, if i made a mistake of you just have a suggestion, please comment :) i love them.

KANSAS CITY, MISSOURI 

The next morning over strawberry pancakes and cigarettes, Billy lays out the plan.

“Okay, so we’re in Kansas City right now, and there’s this tiny town, Liberal, right on the Kansas-Oklahoma border, see?,” He asks, pointing. El nods vaguely.

“Ok-la-ho-ma?” She asks, and fuck, Billy’s in deep. ‘Cause here he was, being a good samaritan and all, and now he’s got some kid who doesn’t know what Oklahoma is. Shit. His mind idly conjures up reasons she doesn’t know, but comes up with bad homeschooling, or aliens. He’s gonna stick with bad homeschooling.

“Oklahoma. It’s a state,” he says, tracing the panhandle. “Fifty states. We’re in Kansas right now, and we used to be in Indiana. We want to get to California,” here, he prods at the ocean with his fork. “But we have to stop along the way. It’s too long otherwise.” And the kid just fucking nods. 

“So, we’re gonna drive to Liberal, that little town, and stay there. It’s about six hours, I think.” El fiddles with her straw and kicks the linoleum floor. “First, we’re gonna hit Goodwill, cause you can’t keep wearing that same outfit.” She looks up excitedly, like she’s never gone shopping before, and Billy’s reminded of her saying she wasn’t allowed to leave the house. 

“What is Goodwill?” El asks, pouring a third thing of creamer into her coffee. 

“It’s a store, but cheaper. Everything’s secondhand,” Billy replies. “Anyways, let's head out,” he says, standing and putting out his cigarette. Eleven follows him out, standing right behind him like she always does. 

HAWKINS, INDIANA

Hopper is going to lose his mind. Seriously. He fucking comes home from picking up James Hunt from a bar and leaving him in the drunk tank, and Eleven isn’t. Home. He knows they got into it this morning, El wanting to go into town, but shit, he didn’t think she’d up and leave. He lights a cigarette as he dials Joyce’s number. 

“Joyce?” The line stutters.

“No, um, it’s Will. Is that you, Hop?” Will says softly. There's a silence as Jim takes a drag of his cig.

“Yeah, Will. Hey, how about you put your Mom on the phone, I really gotta talk to her.”

“Okay,” Will replies, and then Hop can hear his hand over the receiver as he yells for Joyce. 

“Hop? Will said you needed me?” Joyce says, voice high in the way it gets when she  
panics. “Is it Upside Down related? Is Will in trouble?” 

“No, not this time,” Jim sighs. “El is missing. Like, gone gone. And it’s not like I can report her to the police, she doesn’t technically exist.”

“Oh God, Hop,” Joyce breathes. “Oh God.”

KANSAS CITY, MISSOURI

El stares up at Billy with big brown eyes in the shoe aisle. He can tell she wants something, but he isn’t sure what.

“Billy?” She asks quietly. He nods at her. “Can I have those ones?” El inquires, pointing at a beat up pair of Docs, like the one’s Billy’s wearing. Cute. 

“Kid, get whatever you want. Get the boots, and,” he gestures around, “whatever the fuck you want. Have fun, c’mon.” And her face lights up, like he’s given her the keys to a palace, not a Goodwill shopping trip.

Soon, they fall into a rhythm: Billy follows El around the aisles, nodding at whatever she finds and carrying it, her beaming at him every time. In the end, she's got the Docs, some blue jeans (like yours, she had said softly), some mod dress she found in a clearance bin that Billy’s mother would’ve worn, a few soft shirts, and a big brown sweater that Billy’s positive is a mens large. But hey, she looked so excited when she found it, what’s he gonna say, no? And if one of those monkey backpacks little kids wear also found its way into the cart, Billy just wasn’t paying attention.

Shit. He’s gone soft. 


End file.
